


Last Journals of a Defector

by maceyscreature



Series: The Last Journals of a Defector [1]
Category: Watchmen (2009)
Genre: Brief mentions of other characters - Freeform, Dan's A Cutie, Diary/Journal, Literally wrote this entire series within an hour, May Be Confusing At First Because It Begins In The Middle Of Something, Multi, Original Character(s), Pre-Canon, bit of angst, yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:29:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25389823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maceyscreature/pseuds/maceyscreature
Summary: I recently watched Watchmen 2009 for the first time. Haven’t read the books or anything else. Resulted in my affinity for Nite Owl II/Dan Dreiberg. It’s in journal format, thank you Rorschach lol, and the events are pre-movie timeline. Totally made up a character solely because I thought watching Dan ramble on about his love of ornithology would be cute.
Relationships: Dan Dreiberg/Original Character(s)
Series: The Last Journals of a Defector [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838797
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Journal 049 - Entry 015

I am at a loss of what to do. Torn between two halves of myself.

The part of me that was turned into a killer years ago knows I have a mission and will not rest until the mission is completed. But this other side of me, this strange... more human-like part of me has been softened.

Despite the fact that I know his true identity, I cannot bring myself to dispose of the man who is Nite Owl. He is, in a complicated turn of events, strangely sweet. So pure, too. If he had not seen the violence and danger he did as his time as a vigilante, I daresay he'd be one of the truest All-American sweethearts. He has a strange profession, yes. And odd fascinations. Yet I found myself asking more about them. I found myself asking questions to things I didn't care about just to see the look on his face as he explained them. He was elated and I was elated myself and somehow became interested in the things he was telling me, despite the fact that the data was completely irrelevant to my mission.

I don't know what to do now because I cannot kill this man. And if I do not kill this man, I cannot return to the place I have always called home. But, recently, my faith in that home has already been tested. So even if I were to complete my task, would I still desire to return?

There is much to think about still.

I do not think he trusts me. I would not say he trusts me. But I do believe he likes me, at the very least. And this last time we spoke, he smiled at me in a way that he had not before. It felt true. Not out of fear or wanting something. But a true smile of happiness.

To be honest, I don't think anyone has smiled at me like that before.

I think he knows I was sent by my handlers to kill him. But now I think he is confounded by my sudden fascination with the Blue-Bellied Roller and their courtship flights. I find it bizarre myself that I acquired so much information about such an irrelevant topic now. When I continued asking him questions he laughed and asked if I was searching for a new hobby. I admitted that I've never had a hobby before. And that's when he looked at me and smiled. 

I have never felt such joy before. And even when I think of it now, my chest feels as if there is a light inside it. Not a burning light, but a bright light that feels it could be seen from the outside.

I do not think I can kill this man.


	2. Journal 049 - Entry 016

I met with him later yesterday night. It was an unexpected meeting on his part, but I had gone to this place with the hopes of finding him. I acted ignorant, though, and surprised to see him.

We spoke for two hours. Then, for some reason I cannot remember, he laughed at me. I was indignant. I made to leave, but he caught my hand and apologized. I realize it must have been about something silly, as I can't remember what it was now. But when he caught my hand, I froze. His skin was far from soft, yet his touch was. When he apologized, he looked away sheepishly. He truly looked ashamed of himself. I think he meant it.

It was dark by the time the two of us realized we were talking so long. He wanted to walk me home, but I had to avoid that subject because I don't have a home. So I gave him a direction, rather, the same direction that would lead us to his home.

I am no stranger to sexual impulses. The whole thing was just so very confusing to me, because the men I am with are usually the ones to initiate. They are the ones to try and get things moving. And these men are usually so very aesthetically perfect. This man, the Nite Owl, who's true name I protect out of my own weakness, is nothing like the men I would have endured before. And I did not realize I felt this way until I reassured him I could make it home the rest of the way. It was then that he frowned and said, "I suppose you would know best, then."

In that instant, I couldn't part with him. For whatever reason, I could not step away.

I stepped towards him. And he allowed me to kiss him. And then he kissed me back. So slowly. Almost bashfully.

When he was the Nite Owl, when he was out there on the streets fighting, he never seemed shy at all. He was certain in his own physical capabilities and his gadgets. Yet when he kissed me, he was timid.

When we separated, he asked if I would like to come in for a minute. I was eager to accept, yet once inside, he spoke to me just as he did when we were in public. I suddenly wished he was talking about birds. So I asked a question. He was hesitant at first to answer, as I think I confused his head as much as he had confused mine.

It was the strangest night I have ever spent. Not just with a man, but with anyone. 

Once we grew comfortable again, he sat on the couch and was showing me charts from a journal he wrote. I sat beside him and sunk into his side. I encouraged him to keep speaking and, in time, he put his arm around me as he did. I would point to something and ask about it and he would sink closer to me and explain.

I felt bad because, at some point, I started to doze off. I cared about what he had to say, I guess I was just too tired.

When I awoke this morning, I was in his arms. His journals were spread about all around us and his arms were tight around me. Never in my life have I felt so perfectly awake then when I woke in his arms. 

I did not want to wake him, but eventually I had to. I said his true name softly a few times. He didn't wake until I rolled over in his arms. That was when his eyes opened and he was looking up at me. I reached out and grabbed his glasses, which he had set on one of his journals, and he let go of me to slip them on.

He has such a pleasant face. Such a safe face. I couldn't help myself when I kissed his cheek. And then he smiled that true smile at me again. Then we got up and made breakfast together.

I realize this is no longer about the mission. I also realize that me and this man could never make it work, even if we tried. If I abandon my mission and don't return home, they will search for me and either force me to continue or kill me. I cannot put him in such danger. I will continue on as if I were still working on my mission until I can figure out what I want to do. But it physically hurts me when I think that I cannot wake this way every morning. It is a deep pain, rooted in the center of my chest. I thought the last time I felt this pain was the last I'd ever feel it, but I was wrong. I feel it frequently today, whenever he looks at me.

I still have not left his home. I write this across from him as he writes something of his own. I do not ask him what he writes and he does not ask me. We write in silence and, when I finish, I will set my journal aside and stand. I will walk around him, put my hands on his shoulders, kiss his cheek again, and leave his home. I will find a change of clothes and then find a place on the sidewalk. He will join me in time. He says he wants to go to dinner together tonight. I told him I will be more than happy to join him. 

Because I know our time together is brief, I desire to tell him I love him. However, he does not know what I do and to do so would be to worry him. I will wait until just before I must leave. He will worry as it will still be much too soon in his eyes, but when he finds that I am gone forever, he will understand.

But that will not be tonight. Tonight, I will enjoy dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally forgot about this and found the whole thing completely written out in a document! Thought I'd get back to sharing it piece by piece. Alright, fine, maybe it was the JL Snyder Cut trailer that reminded me... ;)


	3. Journal 049 - Entry 021

He asked me to meet a friend of his today. I was hesitant because I am not so quick to trust. But he insisted because this friend is very important to him. I failed to think of a reason why not, so we were soon leaving together to find this friend.

I had no idea this friend would be the first Nite Owl! 

I shook hands with this man, who insisted I call him by his first name, Hollis. He was kind and had the same mild manners as my love. He would squint at me at times and I knew he had his suspicions. But we still had a beer together and we parted friendly.

I do not wish to leave this world of pleasant Nite Owls. Of soft men who gently squeeze my hand when they say goodnight. I wish to stay and learn about birds and their flight patterns. I wish to be beside my love just once when he is in action. But that seems impossible. He retired some time ago and I respect that he is tired of violence. God knows I am. And the world of pleasant Nite Owls is not a world I was made to be in.

We returned to his home and he kissed me for a long time. He kissed me for a very long time and I enjoyed every second of it. He paused for a moment and he looked at me earnestly and asked, "You were sent here to kill me, weren't you?"

I could not lie to him. I said yes and he said, "That's what I thought."

We fell quiet for some time before he spoke again, asking, "Why haven't you?"

I told the truth again, saying that I grew to find him much too amiable. That I liked the way he looked when he looked at me. That I spoke to him and knew almost immediately that I could never hurt him.

He thought about it for a moment and then nodded. Then he said he had been worried this had all been part of it. That I was trying to get closer to him to strike. When I said I had many chances to kill him in the past and didn't, he laughed. I thought that bizarre, but I was still thinking about the way we had been kissing. So I attempted to resume it and he eagerly complied. When his hands found my shirt, I was hopeful. And he was so soft. Still clumsy. I enjoyed it when his fingers slipped and I assisted him.

I had never giggled during sex before. But he fumbled with my clothes and I giggled. And he looked at me surprised for a moment before breaking into a smile. And he chuckled a bit before I leaned in and took control.

No one has looked at me the way he does. No one has touched me with the same hands. I was born to be with him, but raised to stay so far apart. 

Fate is cruel to me and we have never seen eye-to-eye. Now, I actively rebel against it by staying each day with him just a little longer. But one day I will go. One day I will leave my love behind.

I do not think I will still be the same me, then. But at least I will not be returning Home. 

I slipped out of his arms a moment ago to write this all, but I desire to return soon. He sleeps soundly beside me, his bare skin exposed to the air. When I lay back down, our skin will touch again. I yearn for it. But, mostly, I yearn for his arms around me. I am most alive with his arms around me.


	4. Journal 049 - Entry 028

I told him I love him today. I reassured him he needn't say it back, but that I meant it. He was a little awkward, but he smiled when he said it back. Then he returned to eating his cereal.

I am leaving today. My handlers are growing suspicious and I cannot draw attention to his true identity. I need to keep him safe, even if that means I cannot be with him.

I am disappointed, as there is something inside of him that I have not been able to reach. I think if I had had more time, he might have shared it with me. But fate is fickle. 

I am in pain. I have cried endlessly while on the move and wear large glasses to cover my shameful red eyes. But I cannot control it. I wish to be beside him, but instead I just force us further apart.

I hope he does not hate me for leaving. I hope he can understand.


	5. Journal 050 - Entry 127 - Last Entry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please notice chapter names if you hadn't noticed before :)

It has been five years since I started this mission. My handlers, as well as their association, are destroyed by my own hand with the help of my new friends. Though the future is brighter than it ever has been, I cannot help but think into the past.

I will return and inquire about failed Mission 49. I am enthusiastic.


	6. Journal 049 - Entry 030 - Last Entry

He resides in the same home. He looks just as nice as he did the day I left.

I did not approach him for a multitude of reasons.

He was being followed is one. There was a man in a strange mask watching from a distance. He was familiar to me, I think I recall him from my delve into the Nite Owl years ago, but I would have to dig through everything to get that information back. He was an expert in his hiding, but I have always excelled, so I went undetected by him. 

The second reason, which may have been the first, is that he was with a woman. They were laughing. They were so very happy. Between them there was none of the distance I had felt between us so long ago. He was open to her and I saw, even from my distance, a brightness in his eyes. And I'm certain the masked stranger saw it, too.

I think five and a half years was too much time. I can only blame myself for this pain in my chest. I have cried today, though not much like the tears the day I left.

If he can find true happiness with this woman, I dare not ruin it. I will take this and grow. But I was correct in saying I will never be quite the same.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a mediocre poem I wrote a while ago and found recently and thought it worked well with this story.

Not a flower, for where should be petals are sharp and cold  
Not a bird, for the feet have been buried deep below the ground and fail to reach out and fly  
Not sunlight, for there has been seen more brilliance on the dark side of the moon  
No, these things they are not  
For the world has created friction where should be petals, making them slice like a blade  
And the feet were planted there by the way they were made to doubt the ability to fly  
And brilliance was taken away the moment their brightness was questioned  
Maybe in another place, another time  
But not this one


End file.
